Eternally Mine
by Jubalii
Summary: Seras hasn't been at Hellsing a full year yet when Valentine's Day rolls around. Of course she understands the hype behind the holiday, but being a vampire has narrowed the pool of choices down to a very slim bunch of soldiers. However: when the day rolls around, she begins getting gifts from not one, but two secret admirers! What's a girl to do! [DG Challenge #21]
1. Chapter 1

If I owned Hellsing, I'd also own Josh Groban. But I don't.

* * *

><p>"Oh Marcel, I knew that you'd come back for me!"<p>

"Of course, Olivia, of course. I could never be without you. We are two souls, bound together for life."

"Kiss me, my darling!" Seras watched the couple on the television move in for a kiss as the romantic music swelled to a rousing crescendo. After a moment she sighed softly as the credits began to roll and commercials began to dominate the screen.

"Don't go anywhere," the overly-generic announcer's voice beseeched. "Up next we have A Moment to Live, a Lifetime to Love on our True Love Valentine's Weekend Marathon!" Seras continued to pull the hairbrush through her short bangs as the commercial switched from the movie's credits to an ad for a big Valentine's sale at the local adult emporium.

She put the brush down and turned slightly, catching sight of herself in the mirror bolted onto the wall of her private restroom. She appraised the reflection and the corners of her lips fell into a solemn expression. The girl in the mirror was sprawled at the dusty wooden table, dressed in baggy, lilac-colored pajamas and barefoot. The glowing telly, the only source of light in the room, accented the shadows around her face and turned her eyes from a light into a strange, glowing green-brown color.

Her attention turned back to the screen as the new movie came on, throwing Seras into what seemed to be a village in the midst of a Christmas celebration. After a moment, the title showed up in big, frilly letters on the screen.

Heaving another heartfelt sigh, she clicked the remote and the room went dark. Needing no light other than the small beam coming from the cracked door, she walked with a lead-foot slump to her coffin, languidly groping for the seam that separated the lid of her macabre bed from the base. She found it and threw the lid open, but didn't close it as she climbed inside.

Instead, she lay in the dark and stared up at the ceiling, her mind slowly coming back from the lethargic stupor she'd fallen into while watching the movie marathon. She clasped her hands on her stomach and pushed her head back into the soft downy pillow, the silk pillow having been traded in to Walter for this much more comfortable headrest.

_Valentine's Day_, she thought to herself. She felt her heart sinking and pulled her arms up slightly to hug herself, trying to keep from falling into a depressive slump. She knew if she did, she'd not want to get out of bed. If she didn't get out of bed, Alucard would be sent to _drag _her out, and that wasn't fun for anyone except the ancient vampire, who got a kick out of watching his fledgling hoisted into the air by her pajama bottoms in the jaws of a shadowy hellhound familiar.

It wasn't that she hated Valentine's Day. No, as a human she had enjoyed the holiday: buying discount candy and flowers, being doted upon by hopeful suitors in the force, going to clubs and finding potential boyfriends. She had loved the prospects of the most romantic holiday of the year.

But now, all that was gone in a single poof of smoke. Smoke from the barrel of a gun wielded by a crimson-clad psychopath with one foot in Hell and his mind in the gutter. She couldn't eat chocolate anymore; of course, she hadn't tried, but every other attempt with "human" food had left her with a horrible stomachache and a displeased master. And now, no man would look at her twice.

She was still pretty—hell, being a vampire had made her even prettier, in her own slightly vain opinion. Her pale skin suited her now, and she was more physically fit and she even had 20/20 vision! But she was a bloodsucker, the kind of creature that the soldiers of Hellsing Organization dealt with every mission. The only reason she was alive is because she was working for the Organization herself!

When she factored out the men who had wives and girlfriends, there left about half of the soldiers' ranks to choose from. She was the only female, after all, and one would think she would be showered with affection from all sides. However, that was not the case. The men were afraid of her, and some even went out of their way to avoid her. She kept telling herself that it didn't bother her, but every time she saw a captain duck into another hall to avoid passing her she felt the tears prick the back of her eyes. She wasn't supercilious by any means, but she had been used to men at least saying hello to her, much less flirting and treating her right!

The only men who still spoke to her were Alucard, Walter, and Captain Bernadotte. If she was to have any chance of love, or even a Valentine's Day kiss, she would have to choose between the three of them. Turning over to lay onto her stomach, Seras considered those options.

Walter was out of the question. Not only was he older than her by a long shot, he was also refined and proper. Besides, she loved him already, although in the way a young girl would love her grandfather. He was a source of wisdom and wit, a solid companion and sometimes sparring partner, if he didn't have other duties. She loved Walter, but she'd never want him as a lover.

As for her master…. Seras rose up on her elbows, a finger tapping her chin as she looked across the darkened room at the silent television, her mind racing. Sure, she thought Alucard was handsome; after all, his mysterious nature and cool demeanor practically _oozed_ sex appeal.

But she was a logical sort of creature—she wasn't an idiot. He was well over 500 years old, she was almost certain. After all, the way Walter and Sir Integra hinted, and the more she spoke to him, it became clearer and clearer exactly _who _he was. And she wasn't altogether sure that she could handle being in a relationship with a Count, or better yet, a King. Besides, he had a limited range of emotions and love or affection didn't enter into that array at all, as far as she could tell.

That left Pip. Seras rolled back onto her back again, one knee coming up and her foot resting against the bottom of the coffin. Captain Bernadotte was cute enough, even if he was missing an eye. And he also had a certain enigmatic air about him. Plus, his adventuresome side turned her on a bit; she couldn't help but admire the romanticized notion of being the lover of a mercenary, a killer for hire whose only loyalty was to her. It was the perfect Harlequin Romance novel.

But her vampiric senses could hardly stand being next to him, seeing as the residue of liquor and smoke hung over his clothes and on his breath. She couldn't bear to think about kissing him; as a human it would have been okay for him to brush his teeth and be done, but she was sure that as a vampire he could gargle with acid and she'd still taste the nicotine on his breath.

And all the moves he'd made towards her before had been bordering on sheer lust, rather than true affection. In her books, that wouldn't stand. She couldn't bother with being some man's bed-buddy until he found a better lay. That wasn't the sort of girl she was.

Seras covered her face with her pillow, muffling her frustrated groan. It wasn't fair! How come all the women on the telly found the perfect men in their lives in the span of weeks? She'd been at Hellsing for months and not once had she found a suitable prospect for a boyfriend.

Hugging her pillow to her chest, she sniffed quietly and allowed the darkness to hide the tears brimming beneath her lashes. _Why can't I just find a companion? Someone who treats me with kindness and shares the sort of intimacy with me that the women in movies do, someone who loves me for who I am, no matter if it's a vampire or a human. I want someone who I can be myself around, who I can trust—someone I'd be happy to give my virginity to. _

The hair on the back of her neck tingled and her eyelids began to grow heavy. Even if she was still unused to nightshift, her body instinctively grew tired with the rising sun. She felt it even now, its heat warming the Earth. She longed to see it again outside of television, but her master had already explained why she could never enjoy the sun again.

_"Your body is that of a corpse, no matter what you feel inside. Heating up in the sun like you would, with no fluids moving around in your body to cool you off, is a painful way to die. Your brain will overheat; your body will begin to spontaneously combust. You'll burn to death, and nothing will be able to save you. Even if you do somehow manage to grow as powerful as I, the sun will still burn your flesh every time you walk outside. It's not a pleasant experience."_

His words echoed in her mind as if he still spoke them. She let the message of doom lull her to sleep, focusing on the smooth purr that accented every word. _If only he wasn't so… unapproachable. Then maybe I wouldn't be so frightened to pursue him_. With that thought, her eyes closed and her breathing stopped. She was, in every way, nothing more than a fresh corpse lying in an open coffin until the sun fell and she woke again.

* * *

><p>The wall above the coffin swirled and a figure stepped from it, gazing down at the white-faced young woman lying motionless in the coffin. The figure muttered under its breath and reached down to pull the lid down over the body, stopping once to reach over and brush the pale blonde bangs off the girl's nose. Once the lid was firmly in place, the man stood and looked around at the room. He snapped his fingers and the sconces flickered once and then blazed into life. Shadows left their two-dimensional plane and pushed against the reinforced steel door, shutting it softly so as not to make a sound.<p>

"So you would pursue me, Police Girl?" he murmured, looking back at the coffin's lid. He frowned and turned to the bulky box sitting on her chest of drawers. The shadows arced and the box blared to life, startling him. He quickly found the remote and pressed the mute button before watching the images flicker across the screen with mingled curiosity and interest.

He'd seen a television before, of course. But he was old-fashioned and wasting his time in such a meaningless way didn't seem worthwhile. Yet his fledgling enjoyed watching the variety of shows that appeared on the daily roster, and he allowed her this small comfort. After all, she could have her own hobbies if she chose.

"Valentine's Day," he said to no one in particular as the words flashed on the screen, followed by an enormous amount of gaudy jewelry that the screen proclaimed to be "on sale". Yes, Valentine's Day—hadn't Seras said that before? That was the reason she was in a soured mood, he was sure.

He knew about Valentine's Day, but never before had he even acknowledged it enough to celebrate it. It was a paltry farce of a holiday used to placate women with the sole intention of stealing their hearts and bedding them. Before, it had been a nuisance that he'd ignored. But now, perhaps the holiday could work to his advantage.

Turning the television off, he extinguished the lights and made his way through the floor and back to his own chambers, lost in thought.

* * *

><p><strong>Afterword:<strong> Funny story: I had this, and some others, that I needed to edit and post. But lo and behold, my stupid computer (or maybe just stupid me) put them in the wrong folder, and there they sat until I found them last night.

So even if it is July, enjoy a... Valentine's Day fic.

For all my American readers, happy 4th! For all the other countries... um, happy 4th! :D


	2. Chapter 2

In the dim light of Hellsing Manor's security control center, the two guards who were put in charge of keeping an eye on the cameras were doing anything but. It was a slow night, and there was still 10 hours to go before sunrise. The younger of the two was thumbing through the day's newspaper, left by the midday shift for him to read. The elder was complaining, alternating his tale with bites of a jelly-filled donut.

"_How_ could you manage to forget?!" she says. "All you have to do is watch the bloomin' telly, and you sit on your fat arse in front of it enough as it is! There's advertisements on every channel for it!" Finishing his falsetto mockery, he took another bite of pastry, ripping the dough viciously with his teeth. "And I tell 'er, "Who the hell watches the commercials? It's just more shit they want you to buy! I never watch the damn commercials!"

"And to think; you've both been happily married these twenty-five years," the younger remarked dryly, flicking the edges of the newsprint back as he perused the sports page. The man huffed and shook his head, licking the powdered sugar off his hand as the other absently clicked the mouse, flitting through scene after scene of empty hallways and busy training grounds without really seeing them.

"With a harpy like her at the house, it's no wonder I enjoy my job," he muttered as he wiped his damp fingers on his pants and reached for another donut. "I dunno what I ever saw in her." He took his hand off the mouse and ran in through his thinning hair, pursing his lips before taking a bite out of a fresh donut. He winced, looking down at the treat and groaning. "Damn, this one's custard-filled."

"I'll take it, if you're not wanting it." The younger man held out his hand and received the triangle-shaped cake. He propped his boots up on the control panel and balanced the newspaper on his legs while he ate. "Y'know," he said around a mouthful of food, "if I were you, mate, I'd be on my best behavior. Especially if you want what's coming when you get home from work."

"Any man who asks for sex after forgetting Valentine's Day is asking for what's coming to him," the elder argued, laughing harshly. The younger folded the newspaper, marking his place, and threw it on the control panel as he stuffed the other three-fourths of the donut into his mouth all at once. He chewed and swallowed before answering.

"It won't be like that; not if you go about it in the right way," he assured his comrade. "You have to be romantic and play it safe," he suggested suavely, wagging his eyebrows. The other made to argue, but he held up a hand to stop the words from coming. "No, no; just listen. This is what you do." He leaned back in the chair, spreading his hands like a college professor giving a lecture.

"If you come running home with the chocolates and flowers and the "I'm sorry, love", you'll get turned down flat. They don't like you thinking that all you gotta do is spout off what they want. I mean, they'll call you out on the bullshit and then it's the end of the night for you, since you can't be sincere with it."

"I suppose," the older soldier said, brow arching inquisitively. The younger nodded.

"Take it from me; I'm experienced enough in the whole spontaneous-apology area." He ran a hand through his blonde locks, mussing them and upsetting the beret that had been placed jauntily on his head.

"What you do is: you sit her down, and when she asks what you're about you say to her "Wife," you say, "I have been thinking about what you said today," and then you tell her, "I believe you had a point." Then you tell her, "This is your day; whatever you want to do, I'll do it with you."

"Ha!" The elder crowed with laughter. "What next? Cooking supper? Massaging her feet? No thank you; I'd rather be stuck with the shrew! If I started to spout that mush, she'd send me to the looney bin with a note that said I'd gone off the deep end!"

"I'm telling you; that's what you gotta do!" The younger man narrowed his eyes, slapping his hands on his knees. "Then you have to start saying things that sound good to her, but also are things you wouldn't mind doing. Dinner in town, or maybe a stroll in the park, or a trip to the movie theater; something like that, that's not so bad even though she thinks it's romantic."

"Ha!" the elder crowed again.

"You don't _really _do it, mind; you just give the illusion that you would." The younger man grinned, rubbing his chin. "That way, everyone gets what they want, and everyone is happy." The man arched a brow at his younger counterpart, shaking his head slightly as he searched the box for the final doughnut.

"If'n you weren't my coworker," he said slowly, turning back to the security screens and stuffing his cheeks full of pastry, "I'd call you a slimy son of a bitch." The youth picked up his newspaper once more, flipping over to a page dedicated to pictures of local women competing in the Miss Galaxy pageant.

"And if you weren't _my_ coworker, I'd tell you to get a divorce."

* * *

><p>"How many, Deidre?!" The man slammed his fist on the table, his eyes glistening with emotion. "<em>How many<em>?!" When the slender blonde didn't answer, he slammed his fist again. "Tell me!"

"Five!" she blurted, wiping the moisture from her eyes as fast as it appeared. She sniffed and choked back a sob. "Five, Gabriel!" The man took a step back out of sheer shock, hand coming up to press against his heart.

"W-who?" he demanded, when he could speak again. The woman shook her head, hands over her ruby lips. "Who?!"

"James Deacon," she said slowly, the name punctuated with a guilty sort of yearning. "Oliver Tate, Jeremy Swanson—"

"The local parish priest?!" The man howled, one hand tearing at his well-combed locks. "How, Deidre?!"

"He's—he's not a priest," she admitted. "He's my old high school lover, who disguised himself as a priest to get closer to me." She bit her lower lip, her large blue orbs glancing furtively around the room. The man sighed heavily.

"So all those times you were going to Confession, you…." He trailed off, biting back his words. "Damn it, Deirdre. Who else?"

"Daniel Craw and Gilbert Marsden." The man gasped.

"Marsden, too!?" he barked, shaking his head slowly. The woman turned around, fiddling with the pearls around her neck.

"Yes, well, they say to support your local gunfighter, and he's the closest thing," she laughed awkwardly, trying to break the awful tension in the room.

"Get out," the man muttered, turning away from the crying beauty. "Get out, and don't come back."

"No! Gabriel, please!" she shrieked, throwing herself at him. She looped her arms around his neck, pressing her perfectly manicured nails against his jaw. "Those men, the priest and the cartel leader, Jimmy and Oliver, they mean nothing to me! They don't have what we have; they never did! It was a moment of weakness!"

"Go away!" the man shouted, pushing her off of his back roughly. "I'm cutting ties with you, Deidre." He wiped his eyes elegantly, looking up at the ceiling as if asking God for strength. "I can see now that you're just going to keep running off from man to man. Was _I _once one of those men? Who did you leave for me, Deidre?" he hissed. The woman looked the carpet, her curls falling over her eyes. He sniffed, and his face grew hard.

"I'm taking it all away from you Deidre. Everything I gave you; the penthouse, the yacht, the china set, the alabaster vase? I'm taking it back." The woman looked up in a panic.

"No!" she sputtered.

"You'll hear from my lawyer within the week." The woman sank to the floor, sobbing openly now.

"Ungrateful skank," Seras Victoria remarked callously as she watched the scene unfold on the television. "You aren't going to get much better than him." She took a long draught of the heavy tumbler in her hand, swallowing loudly.

"Police Girl, what _are _you watching?" a voice asked, sounding dangerously close to her ear. She jumped in her seat, nearly spilling her drink, and twisted around to see who dared interrupt her. It was the same man who always interrupted whenever she was doing anything she deemed important. Alucard loomed over her, waiting, but before she could speak the television answered him for her.

"Like days on a calendar, so are the Weeks of Our Existence," the suave, solemn male voice announced as the title flashed onto the screen, followed by the faces and names of the actors and actresses that portrayed the characters of Seras' favorite soap opera. The swell of tinny, dramatic music that followed was quickly muted as she hit the button on the remote and finished her supper in one gulp, setting the glass on the side table.

"I'm watching my shows," she said evenly, but behind her words was a firmness that suggested he leave until she was finished. "Is there something you need?" she continued, almost daring him to say a word.

"You don't have time to waste watching some overdramatic bullshit," he answered, arching a brow at the display he'd just watched on the television screen. "Come, it's time for your training."

"Training?" she repeated incredulously, brow furrowing. "What training?" She turned back around and plopped against the soft cushions of the couch, her eyes trained on a commercial for garden seeds. "I thought you said last week that you didn't have anything to teach me."

"Last week I said you were unteachable," he argued, moving around to block the view of the screen. "You were behaving like a whiny child."

"You threw me down the steps!" she replied, her voice rising as she sat up. "I nearly broke my neck!" He seemed to have a reply, but his mouth shut and he regarded her for a moment.

"Getting soft by lounging around like a harem maiden won't help you," he stated in a stern tone. "Those who give up at the slightest bit of pain aren't fit to exist, anyway. Surely you haven't already given up, Police Girl."

"I haven't," she assured him cooly. "I just want to watch my shows. I haven't missed an episode since I was in the Academy, and Walter's kind enough to tape them for me so I can watch at night." She brandished the empty glass. "I'm even drinking the blood like you want while I'm doing it, see?" she added.

"You've finished your dinner," he noted, and she had to admit he sounded both impressed and content with her feat (considering her reservations about her diet, drinking an entire glass-full was something to be proud of). "And since you're finished, you can come to do your training," he continued stubbornly. Seras was a little surprised that he was taking such pains to be calm about it; usually he'd have tossed her out the window and onto the training grounds by now.

"After this, I watch Unspecific Infirmary," she informed him. "And then the Captain and his men crowd in here to watch La Fille du Mercenaire on the French broadcast channel. But I'm willing to give the French thing up if you let me stay here another hour," she said, trying to goad him into a compromise. She could stand to miss seeing if Cerise's father would allow her to marry the man of her dreams or not.

To her surprise Alucard frowned, but disappeared and left her alone. She waited for a moment to see if a hand would come to knock her off the couch, but after ten minutes of silently watching the screen with bated breath she realized he'd agreed to her demands. She smiled to herself, relaxing her tensed muscles and watching the lawyer fight with Deidre. Maybe her master wasn't such a jerk after all, if he was going to allow her to stay and watch TV a little longer.

She watched Unspecific Infirmary with all the detached interest one could give to a soap opera about a hospital's janitor, and before she knew it an hour had passed. The Geese came trotting in from their ballistics practice, reeking of sweat and gunpowder with an undercurrent of fresh night air that made Seras realize she _did_ want to go outside after all. Captain Bernadotte joined his usual place at her side on the couch, but he didn't jump over the back of the cushions like he normally did. He was too busy, a phone held up to his ear as he listened with a goofy grin on his face.

The other Geese milled about the room before jostling each other for prime positions in front of the screen. Seras obediently turned it over to the French broadcast channel, where a Valentine's commercial was playing cheery music. _Oh, that again_, she sighed internally. _That's tonight, isn't it? Don't kid yourself, Seras, _she added drily. _You knew it was tonight. You've been ignoring it by watching the remains of Deidre's love life get shredded. _

"_Oui, oui_," the Captain said into the phone, jerking Seras back to reality. She heard a female voice on the other side, and wondered who he could be talking to. A lover from France? He never spoke about having a girlfriend; in fact, he seemed more liable to flirt with her than be faithful to anyone back home!

"_Je dois y aller_," he said after a moment, and then, "_Huh? Quoi? Oh,_" he sputtered, when the tone became louder. "Yeah, _Je t'aime aussi, Maman. Ciao!" _He clicked the end call button and sighed. The others looked at him for a long moment before their faces lit up in sly amusement.

"You hear 'zat?" one said, in a horrible mockery of his leader's accent. "'Ze Captain loves 'is mommy!" This caused a course of laughter from the other men, but the Captain seemed to take it in good form.

"Oh, shut up," he ordered, chuckling along with them. "I can't call my mother and not respond when she says "I love you". Besides, she's getting older and every time I leave France there's a chance I won't ever see her again." This had a settling effect on the men, who grew somber as the seconds ticked by.

Seras felt a smile tugging at her lips. So it was the captain's mother on the other end, not a girlfriend. Well, even if he did get teased for it, she thought it was sweet that he would willingly give his mother his love in front of his teammates. She stood, stretching, and they all turned to look up at her.

"Going somewhere?" one asked curiously. Seras nodded.

"I promised Master that if he'd let me watch the telly just a bit longer, I'd come outside when Unspecific Infirmary was over and let him beat me up—er, train me," she said, making air quotations with her fingers. The men chuckled, but the undercurrent of nervousness in the laughter reminded her that they were actually afraid she might end up hurt.

She'd tried to tell them time and time again that Alucard wouldn't really kill her, since he'd went through the trouble of creating her in the first place. But no matter how much she explained it, they never seemed to grasp the concept. Perhaps it was just a vampire thing?

"Aw, blow off your little dinner date with him and hang with us!" Pip said, patting the vacated cushion. "After all, he can train you any other night. Tonight's the special Valentine's episode," he added, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. She pursed her lips in pretend-annoyance and rolled her eyes.

"Oh, yes, and watching that with an entire troupe of sweaty soldiers is the perfect definition of romance," she playfully replied.

"I can make them clear out," Pip offered, and Seras couldn't help the flush that spread across her cheeks at his insinuation. The men let out protests, but one look from him silenced them immediately. Seras shook her head quickly, backing away around the side of the couch.

"No, thanks," she laughed awkwardly. She knew her cheeks were pink, and the thought only added to her embarrassment. "I don't think turning him down would be a good idea." Pip shrugged his shoulders and turned back around, but she couldn't help but feel like he was only feigning indifference.

Still, it wouldn't do any good to think about it—he had never seemed genuinely interested in her beyond her appearance, and the thought of kissing him still made her gag a little. And Alucard had already given her an hour. He wouldn't be ignored again; that much she knew.

She jogged down the hall leisurely, wondering where Alucard might be. She decided to just go outside and wait around for him—if she was idle long enough, he'd show up. He was as curious as any alleyway tomcat, and even though she'd only known him a short time she already comprehended that his curiosity was one of his major weaknesses. He just couldn't stay away from something even _remotely_ interesting.

She saw Walter moving towards her in the hall and waved to him amiably. He smiled, holding something behind his back as she approached.

"My, my, Miss Victoria," he said with a wink as she came close enough to talk to. "Someone's been busy winning affections, haven't we?" he chuckled. Seras blinked at him in confusion.

"What?"

"This," he replied, holding out a pristine rose, a small tag attached to the stem. Seras felt the flush come back full force. If her eyes got any wider, they'd pop right out of her head and roll across the dusty carpet. "It was left with the mail."

"W-what? Who?" Seras squeaked in alarm. Walter shrugged, pulling the tag towards the light and reading it aloud.

"For Miss Victoria, from a secret admirer." That's all it has written on it, and I can't discern the writing as any that I know offhand. It's certainly not from any of the captains." He shrugged and handed to her. "All the same, I see that you've managed to gain at least one fan here. Of course, as pretty as you are, it's only natural," he said with a smile.

"Well, I wish they'd come and talk to me," Seras managed to say, still staring at the rose blankly. "I mean, I was under the impression that everyone's scared of me."

"Oh, I doubt that," Walter replied kindly. "Most of them are scared of Alucard, to tell the truth. They're terrified that if they make the wrong move with you, they'll find themselves strung from a telephone pole by their intestines."

"He wouldn't even care," she said quickly. Walter raised his brows in silent query and she turned away, feeling a hot wash of shame. "I disappoint him too much. Fraternizing with humans would just be another step on the scale; he wouldn't bat an eyelash at it. He expects me to fail, since I can't seem to do much else."

"I disagree," Walter said after a moment's thought. "He often tells me of the great strides you're making." She glanced at him incredulously, clearly not believing a word. "Oh, yes," Walter insisted. "I believe he's got high hopes for you. Trust me; if he thought you were a lost cause, he would already have thrown you to the wolves, so to speak." He chuckled again.

"I think he feels much like a teacher who sees the potential hidden away in a pupil, but can't decide how best to draw it out. I believe you're the first person to ever make him have to _work_ for something. Bravo, I say; he needs to have a little adversity in his existence."

"Ad-adversity?" Seras repeated, not sure where Walter was getting all this from. But then again, from what she heard, Walter knew Alucard ever since he was a young man. Perhaps he did know a bit more about how her enigmatic master saw her. "Do you really think so?"

"I do," he assured her. "He's much like Sir Integra, in a way. A lot of bluster, but deep down he will draw a line in the sand for himself, if you force him too. But, Miss Victoria, I'm afraid you'll have to set some standards," he warned her, his face suddenly serious.

"Huh? Standards?" Now she was _really _lost.

"Yes. Take this advice—it's from decades of personal experience. If you let him just push you around all the time, you'll never get any headway with him. Get a little assertive, and make him work to rise to _your_ standards, instead of the other way around."

"I could never!" Seras blurted in astonishment. Was he seriously telling her to order Alucard around like _she _was the centuries-old vampire?! Inconceivable! Walter moved closer, his voice lowering as if afraid of being overheard.

"I hate to see him walk all over you. You're not a doormat, Miss Victoria; you're better than that. Don't let him make you forget that. You're not a mindless servant, are you?" She shook her head slowly, meeting his gaze. His eyes held an inner knowledge that made her all too sure that he knew _exactly _how callously Alucard had been treating her as of late. "Then don't act like one, and he won't treat you like one."

"I'll… I'll try." That answer seemed to pacify the butler, and she could tell he'd been meaning to have this chat with her for some time. He backed away, offering her a smile and a quick bow before pointing to her rose again.

"I suppose I'll take this time to wish you a Happy Valentine's Day," he noted. She smiled and surged forward, kissing his withered cheek before her courage failed her. She nearly laughed out loud when his face turned the exact same color as the rose's petals and he excused himself with a sputter, one hand fishing for a handkerchief to dab his forehead with. She really did love the old man, in her own way. He was so kind to her, in this house where everyone else seemed dead-set on avoiding her.

She glanced down at the rose, turning the stem in her fingers as she read the tag again. Who would send it? She knew it wasn't Pip's nearly illegible scrawl; besides, he'd have given to her personally, she was sure. She sniffed it, her heart fluttering and sinking. Perhaps it was someone's idea of a joke…. She let the warm fragrance of the flower wash over her as she thought about it.

But who cared?! It was a beautiful flower, and she shouldn't throw it away, even if it _was _a cruel prank. She'd probably never know one way or the other. She ripped off the tag and stowed it her pocket, taking her nails and pinching off the majority of the stem and tucking the bud into her hair as she moved towards the front doors.

She stopped in the foyer and caught a glimpse of herself in one of the many mirrors decorating the walls. She decided that she looked very fetching with a flower in her hair—it matched the crimson of her irises, and the dark splotch of color made her hair seem brighter, more golden, in the moonlight.

She turned this way and that, smiling and nodding to herself. She threw aside the errant thought that the rose had come from someone with a malicious intent, and instead let the waft of scent from the petals brighten her mood as she hurried onwards to the training grounds.

She found him standing alone in a training field, staring up at the moon. She couldn't see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but the rest of his face looked vacant as he watched the thin clouds rolling over the moon, hiding the craters behind translucent veils of vapor.

"Sorry I'm late; Walter needed to speak to me and that held me up for a moment," she announced as she moved closer to him.

"No excuses—" he began, but stopped when he caught sight of her. His face fell into a puzzled frown and he motioned to the flower. "Police Girl, what is _that?_" Seras felt the petals with her fingers, feeling a little playful. Perhaps Walter's words had gotten to her after all. _Don't act like a mindless servant. Make him meet your expectations_.

"Oh, this?" she said, pretending as if she had forgotten it was there. "It's nothing; just a little Valentine's gift." She preened a moment before turning her attention to the targets at the far end of the field. "So, it's accuracy training again today?"

"Who gave it to you?" She turned and saw him still looking at her. She had the sneaking suspicion that behind the amber lenses, his eyes were locked on her hair. She gave an apathetic shrug, picking up the gun already laid out for her.

"I don't know. Walter said it was mixed in with a mail. The tag simply said it was from a "secret admirer"." She aimed at the target, testing her scope automatically before remembering that he always scolded her for relying on "human aids".

"You didn't recognize the handwriting?" She lowered the gun and turned to him, deciding to pretend like she'd already moved on.

"What do you mean?"

"The tag on the flower," he growled, looking thoroughly displeased. She tilted her head, looking up at the sky thoughtfully before shrugging again.

"Nope." She turned back to the field and raised the gun again, this time ignoring the scope and trying to focus her so-called "third eye" at the dot on the horizon that she assumed _was_ the target, and not just some tree or—god forbid—a soldier.

"And so you accepted this little trinket?" She felt a breeze brush her hair and turned to see him holding her rose. Before she could protest, he pocketed his glasses and turned it in the moonlight, looking at it musingly. She marched over to him, feeling an anger bubbling in her chest. Usually she squashed such dissident feelings, but tonight she was already on edge from the holiday, and she wasn't going to let him take away the little bit of happiness the night offered her.

"Give that back!" she ordered in a voice so unlike her own that it surprised her. It must have surprised him, too, for he looked at her with something akin to shock before hiding it behind his usual smug expression. He pulled the rose up out of her reach, smiling as she jumped for it like a little kid being bullied on the playground.

She stopped, thinking for a split second before aiming a kick right where it would hurt the most. He grabbed her leg and held it in his other hand, making her hop slightly to keep balance before pushing her away.

"Tell me, why did you accept this paltry little bauble from a weak human? Have I not told you time and time again that you are no longer human, and therefore their affections are far beneath your notice?" he said coldly, gazing at her with a stern frown.

"It might not have come from a human," she blurted out, before realizing just how stupid that sounded. Like she had any vampire callers pounding down the gates for her! He laughed, the sound high and cruel.

"Where else, pray tell, might it have come?!" he sneered, still holding it just out of reach. "From _me_?" She faltered, her lip quivering before Walter's voice came back in her mind like a beacon of hope. _Assertive, Miss Victoria_.

"Did it?" she asked, her sudden confidence unwavering. His brows rose and his eyes twinkling with dark merriment.

"Did I what?" The question hinged on something in his voice, and she forced herself to look him straight in the eye.

"Did you send me the rose?" The world around them was silent as his eyebrows rose even higher than she would have thought possible. He then humphed, startling her and making her jump slightly. She'd been so focused on trying to read his face that she'd nearly forgotten she'd asked a question at all.

"Keep your little trinket then, if it means that much to you." He put the rose back into her hair, the edges of his gloved fingers caressing her cheek as he pulled away. She felt a rush of heat in every pore that he touched, and fought to keep her cheeks from flushing again. Three times in a night was more than enough.

Even more alarming was his lack of an answer. If he hadn't sent the rose, wouldn't he have outright denied it? Or maybe he was just playing with her; he did enjoy mocking her whenever the opportunity arose. But he'd never outright _touched _her before, either. Now she was really confused!

"Hit that one," he said, pulling her out of her thoughts as he pointed to the target. She felt a sudden burst of vexation at his arrogant mannerisms and shot without even really looking. She saw the path of the bullet, but she wasn't able to believe her eyes as the bullet hit his sleeve at the elbow, travelling _under _ the clothing and out the cuff of his outstretched arm. A moment later she heard a dull thud and knew that she'd hit the target dead on. She also knew, somehow, that she hadn't even grazed the skin of his arm.

He twisted to look at the hole in his elbow, and then regarded her with confusion. She raised her own eyebrows in a parody of his, playing it off as though she meant to do the entire thing, and threw him the gun.

"Guess I don't need training after all," she said, feeling a little smug herself. She would have almost betted that she could do the shot again if he asked; something about her irritation had triggered her power without her realizing it, but now that she knew what it felt like she was pretty sure she could tap into it again. His expression changed into something akin to fascination, and she shrugged nonchalantly as she turned and made to leave.

To her immense surprise, he didn't stop her, but she did hear him mutter something in the back of her mind. She didn't catch it all, but she knew that the teacher thought he had finally found that catalyst for potential. She snickered to herself, glad to have got out of a grueling training session by sheer dumb luck.

Little did she know that it was just the beginning of a very long night.

* * *

><p><strong>Afterword:<strong> Who besides the author forgot this story existed; show of hands?


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